


Stay My Hand

by sallyamongpoison



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, POV Fjord (Critical Role), Pining, campfire musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 13:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18152234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyamongpoison/pseuds/sallyamongpoison
Summary: In which while the others sleep, Fjord takes the watch and contemplates what it might be like to offer comfort.





	Stay My Hand

The sound of the fire crackling and popping should have been comforting. It usually was. There was something relaxing about knowing that they were all safe enough to settle in and sleep, that they could pause for a breath and get themselves together, but with that relaxation and comfort there was always the promise of at least a couple of hours of being awake and more or less alone with his own thoughts. The watch. Two hours of uninterrupted time where all he had to do was keep an eye out for anything that might cause trouble or harm, but even more than that it was often the only two hours where he was alone with his own thoughts.

It hadn’t happened in a while that he sat by himself. Usually Jester or someone else would opt to take the watch with him, but this time he sat with his back pressed against the wall of the tunnel they’d been walking while the others slept around him. In the dark, though he could see well enough, his ears picked out the individual sounds of everyone sleeping: Jester’s occasional giggle, Caduceus’ snuffling, Nott’s squirming, Beau’s gentle snoring, Yasha’s even breathing, and Caleb’s...well, he talked a bit here and there as he dreamt. All of those sounds were familiar now, just as the crackle of the fire was familiar, and it should have eased the weight that settled on his chest. Since they’d started this journey underground Fjord had felt this growing weight that sometimes made it hard it breathe. 

Things were...bleak. Wrong. Not that there wasn’t always some element of impending doom or pain or suffering somewhere that followed them, but this felt different. This felt like what taking those orbs into his body should have felt like: a hard stone that beat inside his chest like a second heart. When everyone was up and awake and they were concerned with where they were going and why it was easy to forget, but in moments like this where all he had was himself that heaviness thumped hard against his ribs. It ate at him.

Fjord blinked as something rustled to his right, and he watched as Caleb rolled over and tucked one arm under his head. In the low firelight the red of his hair and his beard looked not unlike the same flames that lit their campsite. The man was made of flame, it seemed. Maybe that was too poetic. Certainly Caleb would think so. In fact, he’d probably hate that statement. His eyes would narrow and he would turn his face away if anyone ever said anything like that. Pain, like fire, would burn in his eyes and he would find some way to deflect it. The problem was, much like the low embers that struggled to stay lit now and the fire he could conjure, it was beautiful. 

In these quiet moments Fjord let himself think that way. Any other time he would shake his head to clear his mind of that kind of shit, but as he looked down and took in the way light and shadow played across Caleb’s face he couldn’t help but think him beautiful. Deadly, too, but more beautiful in this moment of peace. Like fire, Caleb had the capacity to help and to destroy. He wasn’t like Fjord- touched by some old God and given power and a pact, but instead it all came from within him. From his mind. From his birth-given talent. That, maybe more than anything else, made him beautiful. 

Caleb’s face contorted a bit, and in the shadows something ugly passed his features. A nightmare, if Fjord had to guess, and he frowned right along with Caleb as he watched. What he knew now, what they all knew now, told a dark story. At first he’d thought Caleb was just a man with a superiority complex and maybe guilt from something that had happened in the past. Something that made him want to shrink away and only serve himself. Now? Now Fjord’s hand clenched in a fist as he watched Caleb’s jaw clench and his body curl in on itself. He didn’t want to know the dream. He didn’t want to know what things Caleb saw when he closed his eyes. His own shit was bad enough, and while he was more or less adjusted to his own issues he couldn’t imagine the things that Caleb had seen. Or done. 

The fire popped again and it made that pounding in his chest ache more. Every startle made that weight feel heavier. There wasn’t much of anything that could help that. Fjord knew that. He understood it. And to want something to fix it would only end in disappointment. Yet...he was alone in this moment. He could allow himself a few breaths of something that would heal the hurt in his chest. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to cope, but as his heart thudded against his ribs he couldn’t help himself. That hand that was still locked in a fist lifted, reached out, and hovered over a strand of ginger hair that fell across Caleb’s forehead.

He could touch. Caleb would never know. One brush of fingers against skin wasn’t a crime, after all, but in a lot of ways it was worse. Fjord’s fingers practically itched to run through that hair. They had for a long while now. Every time, too, he stopped himself. To think and to hope was a horrible thing. Even if in that moment all he wanted was to offer just a little bit of comfort there was no way he would ever come back from it. To do that now, to let himself be lost in a fantasy that maybe Caleb’s face would relax a bit and his dream would end, was a dangerous path to walk. 

Fjord’s hand opened and his fingers moved through the air mere inches above where Caleb slept. Close as his hand was he could feel the heat that came off of Caleb’s skin, and he wanted nothing more than to brush that bit of hair away and maybe to touch the man’s face. He could imagine the scratchy feeling of scruff, the warm of skin against skin, the smoothness of Caleb’s cheekbones and his forehead. He could imagine that maybe Caleb’s eyes would flutter open and once the initial shock and fear that something was happening wore off that he would smile. It would be a private kind of smile, too. And then Fjord would smile. Maybe then Caleb might scoot in just a little closer and Fjord would spend the rest of his watch running his fingers through Caleb’s hair until it was time to sleep.

That second weight in his chest made him feel as though his rib cage might break. That he might explode. That the next sound of popping and crackling wouldn’t be the fire but his bones breaking under the stress and pain and fear of what was to come. Of what had come before. His hand moved through the air, traced the outline of Caleb’s cheek and jaw without touching him, and it shook just a little. It would be so easy to touch. It would be so easy to try to comfort the man that not only had he caught in his arms when he’d been hit, but the man that he’d pointed a sword at and cut his palm open to share their blood. There was something deeper there whether or not Fjord, or Caleb, wanted to admit it. It was only a few inches that kept it from being yanked into reality, too. If he did give in, if he touched, then there would be no denying it.

Right now denial was maybe the best thing. They had a goal in mind, a plan, and this was certainly not part of it. Fjord squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus his mind on the sound of the fire and the way everyone slept around him. He had to pull his mind back. He had to. There was no other option. Whatever this was, this feeling, wasn’t productive. Not now. Maybe not ever. 

So he pulled his hand away. He pulled it away and let it rest in his lap. His palm was hot and it felt as though the trembling in it would never stop. It would, though. Eventually. And maybe the next time he took the watch there would be someone else awake with him to make sure his hand didn’t reach out again.

**Author's Note:**

> Well hey there, fanfic, haven't written you in a minute. I've been in the midst of some sads recently, and decided what better way to work out my own feelings than by projecting them onto other characters? Am I right?
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr! @sallyamongpoison


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